Lie to me
by R.G Charleoui
Summary: I'll comfort you with my lies but it still won't be enough for you to forget.


Empty – a very adequate word to describe herself nowadays. In past lives, past days, _empty_ would be the complete opposite, but that was all it ever was now. The past. She used to be so full; of light, of friends, of things to do, of food, of love. But now, all those seem so...distant, so surreal, like a lost dream, like she never really had first-hand experiences on being full.

But, _did_ she even have a past? Every minute she spent there she could feel her ties to the world breaking apart little by little. She felt herself _disconnect_ from everything else other than her in between. Wherever she might be.

This scared her. She was okay with the fact that this is her fate, embraced it even, but the concept of losing even her past and her memories scared her. Those were the only things she had clung to in this InBetween and she wasn't about to let that go. No. She'd grasp it until it hurts. She'd preserve those memories like leaves pressed in a book.

Another thing about where she was, it left her completely blind and paralyzed – figuratively – because everything looks so white and pure that it hurts her eyes just to look at it. So close her eyes she did and because she had hope that she would be out there soon, she'd rarely leave her place.

But not all was horrible at InBetween. In days were she would calm down and open her eyes, she'd have visitors. Starved for human contact, she'd propel herself to that person and touch flesh and she'd clutch at the straws of her fragmented memory to remember – to just remember what it felt like to have someone hold her the way she'd hold that visitor –

And sometimes she did remember strong, gentle hands around her waist and cradling her then-heavy head, murmuring lies woven into promises and she'd wonder – even to this day – on how an angel so sweet and kind can lie to her and hurt her. And a memory led to another: sweet softness pressing down unto her cheeks and lips and she'd swoon at the fragrance. She'd wonder too what was that soft pressure for she had forgotten what a kiss was.

"Hey, Minako," her then-visitor would say. "Did you miss me that much?" he asked and the girl pressed her face harder into his chest and just breathed in.

He'd blush a little and let himself be a little selfish because even though he knew she already belonged to someone else, he could not help but think that he was here now and that the person who had her heart could no longer see her. He'd hold her tight, unafraid for the pressing truth that she could easily break like that.

_Could she die a second time_? He thinks.

_He's not a replacement_. She thinks, she remembers. _There was someone before_..., she thought as she rubbed her cheeks against fabric, _someone I...had feelings for. I just can't remember_.

"Ryoji-kun, if I asked you a question, would you answer truthfully?" she lets go and looks at him. He was suddenly averting his eyes.

"I already know what you're going to ask." He swallows – it was always the same damn question. Can't she let it go? Or was her memory becoming that jagged?

"Please, Ryoji-kun." She whispers, turning up the charm she knew would capture hearts.

And because Ryoji Mochizuki could never resist her – well, almost everyone couldn't resist her – he had to give in. "Alright," he would say and Minako's eyes would fill up with burning light and he'd remember how she had looked back when she was still in earth.

"Who were the people I loved?"

They both could not help but notice that she had used the past tense but they both chose to ignore it.

He'd scratch the back of his neck. "Well there were a lot of people that you loved."

"Who?" she presses and clasps her hands close to her lap.

God, she's beautiful. He thinks for a moment, looking down at her pale body sheathed in white lace.

He gulped and pushed down his guilt. He knew it was wrong for him to think about that and yet...

"Ryoji-kun?" she gives his hand a gentle touch and he pulls back almost immediately. Her touch was electrifying because something as good as her should not collide with something as horrible as him.

"Yes, the people you loved..." he mused, hiding his hand behind his head. "There was Junpei, for starters."

At the first mention of a name she used to know, something akin to recognition sparked behind those red eyes but before she could hold tight to it, it had vanished.

"I remember someone...with a...hat."

Of all the things to remember...he thought. He pistol-points to her and says, "Correct. He's your best friend...or so he says. He's kind and likes to play video games, a class clown...a goddamn pervert too but he has a heart. He was my friend too."

She tilts her head and her lips fall into a pout. It was written all over her face: _Junpei_?

"There was Ken. A ten-year old who has a crush on you."

She blushes and the redness was what exactly she had needed. I guess memories can nourish a person.

He began to tell her about a foreign exchange student named Bebe whom she had been in the Fashion Club with, Discipline Committee representative Hidetoshi – both have crushes on her – a number of faceless boys he had a pleasure to chat with once upon a time playing Truth or Dare. He told her stories of that blue-eyed boy Pharos and Akinari, and of the girls she had had close ties with.

"I loved a lot of people." She notes with sad curiosity.

"They all loved you in one way or another."

"And that's why I'm sad. I had to leave behind a lot of people who cared for me."

I'm still here, he thinks.

"Who did I love best?" she whispers brokenly and clutches at the fabric near her heart as if it hurt to ask.

There was silence as Ryoji stares around. Could he really tell her? The last time he did she wept so bitterly it was as if she would never stop crying. He met her eyes and saw a spark of what she used to be before this place and her fate broke her – this time, she was not backing down.

"There were three. But only one triumphed." He said. "Only one caught your heart, and you his."

"Who?"

"You're too quick. Wouldn't you like me to tell you the names of who lost?"

She nods.

"Shinjiro Aragaki. He wears a long coat, a beanie, a permanent scowl on his face – except for when you're around. He likes to cook. He's a bit mean but actually quite sensitive although he shows it only to you."

"He sounds nice."

Then there was me, he says. He looks at her and wonders if she could actually take the truth. She's changed during her time here. He notices her fragility, her tendency to cry over the littlest things, her staring off into spaces and mumbling.

Heck, everyone got a little crazy during their stay there.

Her eyes were filling with tears because she suddenly remembers who lost and who had won. Whom she had lost and who had lost her.

"It's...someone with black-hair, isn't it?" her voice wobbles and her tears come now. "He wears suspenders and a yellow scarf. He's sitting in front of me." She covers her face with her hands. "Who's the first Ryoji? Who was it!" she cried.

"You're wrong!" he blurts out. He did not want to see her cry. He could not allow it. He hated himself for being the reason behind her tears. He did this to her.

"What?" she manages to get out.

"The second best was...Akihiko Sanada. Silver hair, boxing club, talks about exercises and whatnot. Had a sister named Miki." He struggled with the lie. He presents Akihiko in the worst possible light.

He could see the confusion in her eyes.

Could she see through his lies? Could it be that she had already recovered her memory to know that he was lying?

For a moment it was as if she saw through him but then she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I see. I'm sorry for forgetting you. I loved you the most, didn't I?"

He wanted to shake his head. He did not want to lie. But he reminds himself that he's doing it for her and not for him. "Yes, you love me."

"I love you," she repeats but the way she said it was wrong. It felt wrong.

"I'll always love you Minako." He says and it was the truth.

She pulls back and suddenly decides to ask what a soft pressure was.

"Soft pressure?" he asks.

She blushed. "I remember someone holding me, strong and gentle. He was giving me that sweet softness on my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, and my lips. He said 'we'll never be apart' and did that to me again. I assume it was you?"

This must be from before she died. Ryoji was positive that it had not been him but a certain silver-haired man. "Yes, it was me. And those are called kisses." He felt the dryness in his mouth.

"Could you give me one?"

Temptation sings to him and this time he could not refuse anymore. _Sorry Akihiko_, he thinks and plants soft, chaste kisses everywhere, giving in to his desire.

He tastes salt and he opens his eyes. Minako was crying.

"That was...different." she admits.

So she notices, he thought, crestfallen. I knew I could not be a replacement...I knew and yet.

She shakes her head kindly. "Maybe I was expecting too much. Even so, I'm glad you're here. Please don't leave." She nestles closer to Ryoji. She pulls him down with her to the floor, feeling suddenly heavy and lethargic.

"I won't leave." And this was the truth. He was imprisoned here like her.

"I know. I love you."

"I...love you too." His voice cracks.

"You're the one that won, right?" she clarified one last time.

"Yes." He said and hated himself for lying to her. But he hated seeing her cry even more.

_A memory, when unremembered for so long, can be easily manipulated into what the mind wants. It can edit the hurtful parts and paste in new, colourful and synthetic ones. _

He should not take advantage of that.

He knew that and yet...

"Lie to me, Ryoji-kun." She whispered, her eyes drifting shut and her mouth falling into a relaxed smile. She knew the truth. She knew but instead of reliving the past, she decides to cut away the ones that hurt too much to have. Permanently this time –because she wasn't selfish.

Ryoji thought that he was the one hurting her but that could go both ways. She never was one to be transparent with her thoughts in the first place.


End file.
